A lovely young girl dressed all in yellow smiles demurely at the camera. In the photo she appears sweetly serene and as I focus on her gentle brown eyes, I wonder if today there is any hope left in them.The girl's name is Leah Sharibu. She was just fourteen when, more than two years ago, she was abducted by the militant Boko Haram faction in her Nigerian homeland. More than a hundred girls were stolen from the School of Science and Technology in Dapchi that tear-soaked February day. Five girls died in the raid, victims of trampling and suffocation when they were cruelly pushed and packed into trucks. However, eventually all the surviving girls were released by the Jihadist group--all the surviving girls, that is, except Leah.
If she is still alive, why does Leah remain captive? According to the other students, the answer is straightforward: Leah refused to denounce her Savior. As the lone Christian among the children taken, Leah's conversion to Islam was demanded. When she refused, a lifetime sentence of slavery was pronounced; and she was casually given to one of militants as his own.
Reports have surfaced that Leah has recently borne a male child to her captor, but her parents suffer still without any truly reliable information about her well-being. She may be alive. She may have been martyred months ago. The only certainty is that great evil has been done. The unleashing of great evil is not an uncommon thing in Nigeria, which leads the world in the persecution of Christians.
In Nigeria churches are bombed and burned; believers, murdered and maimed. Thousands and thousands of believers suffer. They are driven from their farmland. They are despised. They are mutilated. They are kidnapped. They are raped. They are tortured. The government seems unable to protect them.
“Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body.“ Hebrews 13:3 ESV
A few years ago my husband Ken and I were privileged to have two beautiful African girls spend the weekend with us; their children's choir was touring the U.S. and performed at our church. Every time I think of Leah, I think of those two sweethearts. They were giggly and inquisitive and funny and wise. They adored ice cream and thought the fact that I had fruit no one could eat (faux decorative apples) displayed in a pretty bowl was the silliest thing they'd ever heard of--come to think of it, maybe they had a point.
So, because of my two small friends, Leah's plight and that of all Nigerian Christians seems somehow closer and more real to me. Captives taken in the Dapchi invasion and other raids are not statistics; they are fragile little girls. While I bemoan my small inconveniences amid an unusual and disturbing season of COVID-19 fears, the ruthless interruption in the lives of Nigerian Christians continues unabated. The lock down for Nigerian Christians is not because of a virus; it is due to a much more dangerous threat. It is due to the ravenous, darkened heart of hatred. I don't presume to teach you about the distress of these persecuted brothers and sisters—there are numerous organizations worldwide that can educate you. A few moments googling will overwhelm you with information. What I will presume to do is to beg you to pray for the believers in Nigeria (and the persecuted Church worldwide} whose plight is frankly unimaginable to us in the U.S..
The name of the children’s choir that visited my church translates to "hope." Leah's mother Rebecca Sharibu clings unabashedly to hope. She is praying for her daughter and, it humbles me to say, is praying for her abductors, too. Rebecca's plea is that you come alongside to pray with her. Won't you join us? How can you not?
Comments